Pour Etre une Femme Forte
by Elizabeth Bennent
Summary: Before Satine was the "Sparkling Diamond" at the Moulin Rouge, she was a little girl who dreamed of a better life for herself and her mother, Celestine.
1. Clouds So Sombre

Author: Elizabeth Bennet

Disclaimer: _Moulin Rouge_ does not belong to me but it does belong to directing god, Baz Luhrmann and his buddy Craig Pearce, as well as 20th Century Fox Film Corporation and all involved in creation of this film. But this fic and original characters are mine, so please ask if you would like to use it please.

Dedication: To the Princess Circle (which of course includes Serifina/Girlfried/Persephone, Saya, Poca, Sunny, Delphina, Luna, Macai, Kuzco, and Fred & George). And Delphina deserves my undying gratitude for betaing.

A/N: Satine had to start somewhere. All that she is came from somewhere. I thought it would be interesting to see where it all came from. I depict her life through her eyes and her mother, Celestine's, eyes. They are both filled with strength.

Please note that the significance of the title is: _To Be a Strong Woman_ in French.

Pour Etre une Femme Forte

**Chapter 1: Clouds So Sombre**

_**Paris, 1878**_

The roof was leaking again. Freezing drops of rain made splashing noises in the half-filled pans and buckets set up in various places on the apartment's floors.

"We need to get out of here," Celestine said.

"What are you talking of?" her husband asked gruffly, "We have no where to go. We haven't the money to rent out a new place. We haven't been able to afford _anything_ since you brought that brat into the world."

"Satine is your daughter as well, Léonce," Celestine said unfailingly, defiantly. He slapped her for it. She swiftly recovered, her eyes smoldering.

"You could have slept with anyone and given birth to the little rat," Léonce said, "That girl has no father."

"You're right about her not having a father. You are always gone! Out drinking, gambling, fighting, sleeping with countless women as if they were objects…toys!" she yelled, "But you're wrong about me. I loved you. I would never have gone to another. For the last time, Satine is yours."

Léonce just glared at her while taking a drink of ale so quickly it burned.

"I don't know who you are anymore," she whispered.

Eight year-old Satine could hear her mother's whisper in the next room. She sat on her mattress, knees drawn up to her chest. She had been hurt and terrified while her father threw his drunken fit. Only after hearing her mother's calming whisper did she begin to calm herself. Instead of listening to her father's hurtful words she decided to pretend.

It was the most wonderful things Satine had discovered. After listening to her mother read her stories, every night Satine would lay awake thinking about what it would be like to be the heroine of each story. What it would be like to be Hamlet's Ophelia. She would imagine herself insanely plucking at flowers and crying out her beloved's name. Somehow Ophelia's misery made Satine's less persistent for a short time.

That night, she was the heroine from the book Celestine had started reading to Satine earlier that week. It was from England: _Jane Eyre_.

Satine closed her eyes and imagined herself as the orphaned Jane, and then growing into a plain young woman working as a governess at Thornefield Hall. She pictured what she might wear; a simple gray frock with a dainty white collar perhaps. Her hair pulled tightly back into a chignon. Then she pictured Mr. Rochester. He was handsome, strong and kind. His eyes twinkled. He would have a charming English accent. He would be understanding.

Satine could almost drown out the shouts of her parents.

_The cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so somber, and a rain so penetrating…_

He had stormed out yet again. Celestine sighed, half out of defeat and half out of relief.

_Léonce…_

He had been an enticing man when she met him at the age of seventeen. He had been twenty-three, handsome. She had been so young. They were married right away to avoid scandal. Precisely eight months after they were wed, Satine came. Everyone knew, but pretended they could not count for Celestine's sake. Until then she had been regarded at "one of those very charming, sweet and amiable young girls."

Léonce and Celestine both came from middle-class families. Only two months earlier, Léonce had supported his small family by working in a poultry market in town. Then he started drinking and working intoxicated. He was promptly dismissed. Celestine had to say goodbye to the small, yet cozy living arrangements then. Now they lived in a crumbling, filthy apartment right outside of Monmatre. Léonce didn't work anymore. He came and left as he pleased. Celestine didn't have to follow him to figure out what he did and where he went. He always came home smelling of liquor, cigar smoke, and cheap perfume belonging to various ladies of the night.

She put on a bright face for her daughter, Satine. She was yet eight; too young to worry over such things. Celestine read stories to her. She borrowed books from her brother, Tómas, who gave what money he could to Celestine and Satine for food and clothing. But it wasn't much.

_This is where I am_, Celestine thought to herself.

She glances around the apartment. Paint peeled off the walls, it smelled of everything rotten, it was cold, damp and she could never seem to get it clean enough. She was surprised that they were not all sick from the massive filth.

The bed where she slept stood to the left corner. The kitchen was to the right and the door to an oversized closet that served as Satine's bedroom. The had one small, oak table, little cooking supplies and no running water. The small collections of books stood outside Satine's room in a wooden crate. The lavatory was outside in the ally, next to a water trough.

_We need to get out of here…_


	2. Helen, Without a Choice

**Chapter 2: Helen, Without a Choice**

"I don't understand," Satine said disgruntled.

Celestine laughed and tucked a strand of loose ruby hair behind her daughter's ear.

"What don't you understand, my love?" Celestine asked.

"Why did Helen let Paris take her away?" the little girl questioned.

"Maybe she wanted to go with him," Celestine replied.

"Why?"

"Well, Paris was supposedly handsome. He was wealthy, his family was exceptional," Celestine explained, shifting her weight on the mat Satine slept on. It was the darling's bed time, but she had insisted on Celestine reading to her from _The Iliad_.

"I don't think so," Satine declared, "Paris isn't very courageous. Helen wouldn't want to go with him. She has more sense than that."

Celestine smiled down at the little girl, "Maybe Menelaus is cruel to her. Maybe going with Paris opened a window for her to get out."

"Why couldn't she make Menelaus stop being cruel?" Satine said.

Celestine sighed "In this world, my love, women don't always have a choice in matters that concern them."

"That's wrong!" Satine exclaimed.

"It is. It's very wrong. Yet somehow…women sometimes end up in the clutches of men and it is hard to escape."

"But not impossible?" Satine looked slightly frightened.

"No. Not impossible," Celestine said, quietly, "Now, time for bed." She gently tucked Satine under a thing comforter. She kissed Satine's soft forehead and turned down the lamp.

"Goodnight, my love."

"Goodnight, Mama."

Celestine softly shut the door behind her. She was once again alone in the main apartment. The city sparkled outside the window. She went to her bed and laid down her head.

_It is hard to escape…_

…_but not impossible?_

_No._

_Not impossible._

Léonce stumbled into the shadowy apartment. Celestine only heard soft echoes of his footsteps in her half-sleeping state. He lay down on the bed. She could smell his signature stench of alcohol and women. He was ridiculously drunk. He slid his hand up her leg, to where her torso met her hips, to her chest and finally to her neck. He moaned.

"Go away, Léonce," she said, quietly.

"Come to me, Celestine. You've been frigid for so long," he said. He was gruff, harsh.

"No," she said.

"What if I didn't give you a choice?" his foul breath climbed around and found her nostrils.

"That's something that would make you very sorry the thought came into your head," Celestine said firmly. He groaned and removed his hand and got off the bed. She went back to sleep.

Despite the late hour, Satine was awake. She was tired, but awake. She was thinking over _The Iliad_. Other stories entered her mind now and again. She acted out each part with detail. She saw herself as each character. Each different skin…

Her door slowly opened. The bulky silhouette of her father stood there. Satine pulled the covers to her chin and held it tight.

"Bonsoir, pretty one," her father said, maliciously, advancing in the inky moonlight.

"Please, go away," Satine whispered.

"I'm your father. You want me to go away?" he said. His eyes flashed. Satine didn't understand what flashed out of them, but it frightened her.

He laid down upon her. He smelled horrible. Satine didn't understand…

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" she asked.

He bared stained teeth, "Maybe.

"No!" came a shrill scream from the child.

Celestine sat up. Her blood froze in her veins. The door to Satine's room was open. Celestine rushed. She saw Léonce on top of the small child, ripping at her night gown.

"Léonce! No!" Celestine charged at her husband, trying to pull him off of her baby. He threw her against the wall. She got up and ran to the stove where her iron pan sat. She rushed back into the room, hitting him over the head. He instantly fell limo onto the mattress. Satine was sobbing violently. She understood now.

"Mama! Mama! Please! Make it stop! Mama! Mama!" she screamed.

Celestine pulled the child out from under the unconscious Léonce. She held her tightly.

"Shhhh. It's all over. Don't worry. He'll never touch you again, do you understand me?" Celestine pulled Satine's face from her shoulder to look at her. Already, dark bruises had appeared on her pale skin.

"Here's what we'll do, my love," Celestine said, "Take a sack from under my bed and put all the books you can in it. I am going to pack out clothes."

"Where are we going?" Satine asked.

"Away. We'll find somewhere safe, I promise," Celestine said.

"Is he dead?" she asked.

Celestine looked to her husband and places two fingers on his neck. No heartbeat.

"Yes."

"Good."


	3. The Zidlers

_A/N: I would like to mention the quote in chapter one, "The cold wind had brought with it clouds so sombre and a rain so penetrating…" This quote is from Charlotte Brönte's _Jane Eyre_. I forgot to mention this in the last two chapters due to lack of caffeine. Sorry! Enjoy chapter three!_

**Chapter 3: The Zidlers**

"Uncle Tómas!" Satine ran to her uncle. He scooped the little girl up in his strong arms. It was early in the morning. He saw gray and purple splotches covering Satine's face. His wife, Claudine, stood on the steps to their apartment. Celestine walked up to her brother.

"What did he do to the two of you?" Tómas asked Celestine.

"Not to me," she replied, "Just to her. I…I killed him, Tómas."

"Celestine…" Tómas started, but paused and sighed. He wore a disapproving look, "Come inside."

"You'll have to live with Harold," Tómas said, finally.

"What? Tómas, that is mad!" Celestine exclaimed, "He has been a disgrace to our family. I can't _live_ with him. He'll make me work for him."

"Celestine, you have no choice. You _killed_ Léonce! Do you understand what that means?" Tómas scolded, "It means that you will be found and put in prison."

"Let me hide _here_!" Celestine pleaded.

"No, Celestine. If you are found here by the authorities, they will arrest me and my family as well. You know I care about you and Satine, but I have Claudine and my own children to care for first."

"Yes, but…Tómas…Harold will make me work as a…as, well…" Celestine paused, "And who's not to say that I won't be found in Monmatre with Harold? I could easily be arrest there as I would here!"

"Celestine, don't be ignorant," Tómas said harshly, "The authorities go to Harold's bordellos for pleasure, not to arrest. Even if you have to sell yourself, you will be alive and so will Satine. That should be good enough."

Celestine said nothing. She looked out the window to see Satine and her cousins playing in the garden. She glanced at Claudine, who sat silently in the corner. But Celestine could tell that woman was disturbed at what Tómas was asking his sister to do.

"Very well," Celestine said, "I will live with Harold in Monmatre. But I do so for Satine; neither you nor your family. And, I will leave you to live with the fact that you forced me into prostitution."

"You forced yourself, Celestine," Tómas said, holding up his hands.

"Tómas, when one of your sons is in such danger as Satine was, the guilt will stab you. It will hurt. It is a pain that you will never recover from. You'll know that you could have saved your child from such monstrosity, and you'll know that you would have taken their place if you could have," Celestine said quietly.

She walked to the door, but stopped momentarily, and turned to her brother, sitting in his leather chair placed at his varnished desk.

"You'd better take us to Harold's now," she said coldly, "We wouldn't want you caught before you're rid of us."

Claudine snapped her gaze from the closing door to her husband.

"You're despicable!" she exclaimed, "You just sold your youngest sister to the men of Paris!"

"Claudine, darling, calm yourself…"

"No, Tómas! How could you? We could have helped them at least find a better place for them to stay. Harold's filthy bordello is no place for them. Especially Satine! She's Jean's age!"

"Claudine, do you want to end up in prison? Because that will come to pass if we help them!" Tómas said.

"You want to protect your family?" Claudine spat, "Celestine and Satine _are_ your family." She stormed from the study.

Celestine held her sleeping daughter in her arms as followed Tómas through Monmatre on foot.

"We should have taken a carriage," she snapped.

"Celestine, _please_?" Tómas said. He carried two carpet bags with their belongings.

"The Moulin Rouge?" Celestine asked, upon stopping in front of the entrance of her brother's bordello. There was indeed a large, red windmill on top of the edifice. Celestine found herself wondering if Léonce had ever been inside.

It was early evening. No one had arrived yet.

"This way," Tómas said, leading Celestine around to the side of the building. There was a crumbling staircase leading up to a door, "Harold's office," Tómas said. He knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" came an enthusiastic, deep, energetic voice from within.

"Tómas," he said through the door. It opened immediately.

"Celestine!" Harold exclaimed. He was the eldest child of the Zidler family. He possessed the signature red hair, now spotted with white. He also had pale skin and large, blue eyes. He was bigger around the waist that Celestine or Tómas, but much more energetic. He pulled Celestine and Satine into a large embrace.

"My dear sister and niece here to visit! How marvelous!" his loud voice and abrupt embrace woke Satine. She grumpily rubbed her eyes and looked at Harold.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Uncle Harold, to you darling dove," he said, taking her in his arms, twirling her around. Satine giggled.

"You're funny," she said.

"Harold, we have to talk. Something has happened to Celestine and we need your help," Tómas said sternly.

Later that night, Marie, Harold's wife showed Celestine and Satine to a small apartment connected to the Moulin Rouge.

"It's not much," Marie said, "But we provide all of our…_dancers_ their own quarters. Many of them have children also. We have a woman who cares for them while you ladies work."

"Thank you," Celestine said to Marie.

The woman was tall. She wore an extravagant gown, but not suggestive. It had a high, lace collar, and the dress fabric was dark, silk brocade. She wore a large brooch upon her breast. Her frizzy, dyed-gold hair was piled on top of her head. Her face was powdered with white and two smears of rouge graced her cheeks. Her eyes were heavily lined and her were lips colored.

"I'm glad to have finally met my dear sister-in-law," Maries said, kindly, "And my sweet, little niece."

Satine was exploring the small apartment.

"I'm very glad, as well," Celestine said quietly, giving a small smiled. Satine was now lying down on the double bed, quickly falling asleep.

"Listen," Marie whispered, "It won't be so bad. You might even meet a nice a nice man to marry. That's how I met Zidler. Once you have a husband, once you have someone to love, and they love you back, you will be free."

"I thought we're not allowed to love here. Harold was very clear about that," Celestine whispered back.

"Sometimes, you don't have a choice," Maries said.

"They thought young Satine was asleep, but she heard them. The words would be lyrics of a hopeful hymn that would stay with her forever.


	4. Dancing Freedom and Bruised Slavery

**Chapter 4: Dancing Freedom and Bruised Slavery**

The first day was hard. It was painful. Celestine learned dance moves early in the morning. She was fitted to three costumes, and was showed where and how to perform in each dance hall. She learned the protocol with costumers; where to take them after the show, what sort of attitude she should have. Satine spent the day in the gardens with the other children of some of the women. Madame Gabrielle watched them. While Celestine still felt trapped…

…Satine felt a freedom completely new to her.

"Ow!" Satine shouted. The boy who pulled her hair laughed manically. "Don't do that!" she scolded.

She chased after him.

"Hey!" said another boy of dark skin, "Leaver her alone!" He stood between the chubby boy who pulled Satine's hair and Satine.

Satine ignored him and ran towards her attacker. She jumped on top of him. She kept hitting him, expecting for Madame Gabrielle to peel her off of the boy and reprimand her. But the woman only laughed.

The boy was screaming. Satine was shouting.

"Don't touch me ever again, you brute. My mother will kill you if you touch me again!" Satine yelled.

The other boy went to Satine and pulled her from the chubby boy, wailing in fright.

"Don't mind Alon," said the boy.

Satine wiped tears from her cheeks. She didn't know why she was crying. She suddenly felt fear over-wash her.

"The people here call me Chocolat. What is your name?" he asked,

"Satine," she said quietly.

"Come over to my dancing tree!" he exclaimed. Chocolat wore red, silk pants, but no shirt or shoes. His head was shaved and he had very white teeth. The leaves of the tree standing over him and Satine were bright green. The sun shown through each vein, flowing of green liquid. Satine forgot her fear at that sight of them. She lightly touched one with the tips of her fingers.

"Why is it a dancing tree?" Satine asked.

"I dance underneath it," Chocolat said, "But it doesn't work very well. I have no music to dance to."

"I can sing a song!" Satine exclaimed.

"You can sing?" Chocolat asked.

"A little. My mother gave me lessons," she said proudly.

Chocolat smiled. "Sing then," he said, putting on a pair of black, flat shoes.

"Those shoes look funny," Satine said, "They're soft."

"They're special dance shoes that Mama made for me," the boy said.

"Oh."

"Alright," Chocolat said, standing, "Go ahead…sing."

Satine opened her mouth and sang a dance song she had heard at her Uncle's once. Chocolat started dancing. Each move fluid, melded with the notes from Satine's mouth. His silk, red pants flashed in the light. He smiled, frowned, made a different expression on his face that matched the words to the song. Satine began to make expressions as well. By the end of her song, she felt an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment and excitement.

"You're good," Satine told Chocolat.

"So are you," Chocolat said, "Are we friends now?"

Satine smiled and nodded. "Will you teach me how to dance?"

"Yes," the boy said, "Tonight, when all of the people come, we can sneak in. I'll show you all of the people who dance. We'll work there someday."

"What do you mean? How do you know we'll work there?" Satine asked.

"Harold talks about it all the time," Chocolat explained," He always tells me how he wants me to be a dancer in the club when I grow up."

"Well, when I am grown up," Satine said, holding her head up, "I am going to be an actress. I won't be a dancer in Uncle Harold's club."

"Actresses have to dance," said Chocolat, "And sing. And Mama says that all the women here have to act.

"Why?" Satine asked.

"I'll explain."

Celestine tiredly walked into her apartment. She wore a flushed-pink silk gown. A costume. Her hair was done up, make-up heavily places across her face, jewels dangling from her ears, neck and wrist. A mask.

Satine was fast asleep on the bed. Only one lamp burned. Celestine sat beside her daughter for a moment. She stroked the fine red hair and the pale face. She laid a light kiss on the girl's temple.

She went to the small washroom off of the main room and closed the curtain. She stripped herself of the silk, lace, fur, clips and jewels. She stood in from of the dirty mirror naked. Her pelvis was already starting to bruise. There were finger marks upon her arms. Her face looked distorted, the make-up was smeared. She filled the washtub with buckets of lukewarm water. She stepped in.

And she wept.

Satine awoke and heard violent sobs.


	5. A Night at the Moulin Rouge

_I apologize for not updating sooner. Finals were overwhelming, and then the beginning of summer captivated me. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 5: A Night at the Moulin Rouge**

_**1895, seventeen years later…**_

"There," Satine said, as she added the last clip to her mother's hair.

"I cannot believe we're still here," Celestine said as she blankly stared at her made-up appearance.

"What do you mean, Mama?" Satine asked, sitting in the chair in the corner.

"I am too old to be working here," Celestine said, getting up from the vanity and she began to pace the room. Her costume was more modest now; a bit longer, but still low-cut. Celestine no longer worked as a prostitute and dancer, but as one of the women who arranged for men to see the woman of their choice. By command of Zidler, Celestine had to look as if she were part of the men's fantasies.

"It is all part of this vivid atmosphere I have created!" he had exclaimed.

"Forty and one years is not so old, Mama," Satine said. She had picked up her copy of Shakespeare's, _Hamlet_ and began to read. For her twenty-fifth birthday, her mother, Uncle Harold and Aunt Marie put savings together to buy three tickets to see _Hamlet_ at one of Paris' most elegant theatres. Sarah Bernhardt would play the part of Hamlet. Satine was already a great admirer of the woman's work ad longed to be as great of a stage actress, "At least you no longer have to work as a whore."

"Satine!" Celestine exclaimed, "Don't say something so terrible words. It is hurtful."

Satine felt herself flush. She hadn't meant to be cruel. Around the Moulin Rouge, that is what the women were called, among several other terms.

"Mama, I am sorry. I didn't mean…" Satine started, but Celestine cut her off upon looking at the clock neat the door of the apartment.

"I must go dear! The show starts very soon! I need to see everything is in order," Celestine said. She kissed Satine on the forehead and hurried out the door.

Satine crept to the window. She pulled the curtain back so as to see her mother head in the direction of the Moulin Rouge but then abruptly hurry off towards the entrance on the street.

_Jacques_, Satine thought. Jacques Montellier was Celestine's secret affair. While the women who worked at the Moulin Rouge were forbidden to form an attachment, Celestine strongly defied her brother's strict rules. Celestine hadn't told Satine of Jacques, but she had told Maries; who promptly notified Satine of each detail. Jacques was a gentleman; meaning he had no particular line of work, simply a lot of money. He had come to the Moulin Rouge with a friend, but left with Celestine. Over the past three years, he leaving the Moulin Rouge with Celestine evolved into him waiting for her outside of the place and taking her to dinners and his small mansion on the other side of town.

While Satine worried that her mother could still be found by the authorities for her previous crime, she also wished her mother every happiness with Monsieur Montellier.

Not only did Celestine's absence provide freedom to herself, but to Satine as well. By the age of twenty-five, Satine was just a beautiful as her mother. Harold had begged Celestine to allow Satine to be a dancer in one of the dance halls, with the promise of not selling her. Celestine refused then, and every time after. With Celestine out of the Moulin Rouge every night, Satine escaped to the dance halls. There, she put on costumes and joined in on the provocative dancing and singing. Apparently, she had been asked for on more than several occasions. She always denied.

"Someday, my sweet little sparrow, you will want to! These men offer large sums for you!" Harold said in response.

Once Celestine was out of sight, Satine was out of the apartment door. She met Chocolat in the back of the main dance hall.

"You're late," she said, hiding a smile.

"Mama made sure she looked perfect this evening," Satine said, climbing three steps to the back door. As soon as she entered, noise burst into existence. Music was playing, women were shouting about for lost clothing, or shouting for assistance. The stage manager's strict cries called for everyone to be on the dance floor in five minutes.

"Will she ever tell you about, Jacques?" Chocolat asked. Satine smiled back.

"Well, I see that you are all ready," she exclaimed, as she scanned Chocolat's appearance. He wore a silk, blue vest and orange, pinstriped trousers. He wore orange dance shoes and a red top hat.

"I lost most of my costume," he said, looking quite uncomfortable indeed.

"I can see that," Satine said as she fingered through racks of dressed and other costumes.

"Satine! Where have you been?" Marie said, entering the dressing area.

"Sorry Marie!" Satine said, not really paying attention but attempting to find a costume.

"I couldn't cover for your mother until you got here. Andre is still pursuing head counting and reporting everything back to Harold. Little suck-up, that one," Marie huffed.

"Here," Satine said, pulling forth an emerald green, dancing costume. There were only beads for straps, and fake gems and sparkles were sewn into every inch of the costume. Feathers lined the neckline, and ruffles were sewn inside. Marie paired it with matching elbow length gloves and heels.

After quickly doing her make-up, Satine went in line with the other dancers. Each dancer entered the dance floor on the beat of the drum. Discs in front of lit torches mad the lighting flash dramatically as they were moved back and forth by stage hands. With the new electric light, Harold had purchased many other lighting effects as well.

Satine smiled as she entered and walked to her formation. The guests seemed to mob the boxes on the sides and the small side bars of the lower level overflowed. The music was wild. Everything whirled around her. Each one of her senses was excited for more. The smell of the cologne, heat and alcohol, the lights flashed off of the brightly dressed dancers, the music was fast and heavy, the air was hot and oppressive but it somehow mad everything that much more erotic.

The dancers began their standard dance, the Can-Can by Offenbach. It was the most exciting for them men. As the dancers kicked up their legs high into the air, it was possible for them to catch a glimpse of something they normally did not.

Hours into the night and early morning, Satine danced. She danced with different men, she danced in the rehearsed dances, and she danced with Chocolat in danced they had created themselves. Satine never tired. She put on a new face, created a new lie for each dance and each partner.

Chocolat had been right when her that the Moulin Rouge was a starting ground for her acting.

When all was done, Satine had a satisfying ache in her legs and was delightfully overheated. Chocolat walked her back to her apartment while dozens of women in their beaded, silk costumes led men to the giant Elephant in the middle of the garden. There they would sit with their customers over supper, and then entice them into lovemaking. By morning, all the magic would be gone. Satine closed her eyes and breathed in before going inside the apartment.

"It is not that wonderful," Chocolat said.

"Oh, but it is," she replied, smiling at him, "Good night. See you tomorrow."

He nodded and walked off. Satine stepped inside. Her mother sat on the chair. She had obviously been crying. Satine was startled, for she had not expected her mother to be home from Jacques until morning.

"Why, Satine?" her mother asked, quietly, "Why does it captivate you so? How can you see the excitement in such a hellish place?"

Satine lowered her eyes in guilt and closed the door behind her.


	6. Newcomers

**Chapter 6: Newcomers**

"Dashing daisy!" Harold exclaimed urgently.

"_No_, Harold," Celestine said, "How could you? It is bad enough that you and Tómas thrust me into this life. Satine was supposed to stay out of it."

"You should have thought of that before you murdered your husband," Harold said, turning stern. Satine was almost frightened by him when he became angry.

"Oh, so I should have _let_ him rape Satine? Is that what you're telling me, Harold?" Celestine shot back.

Satine winced and pulled her knees to her chest. She tuned her mother's and Harold's fighting out. It distantly reminded her of when she would cover her parents' arguments with her imaginings of _Jane Eyre_, _Hamlet_, and _The Iliad._

When Satine had walked into the apartment, her mother had wiped her tears and explained to Satine that she had gone back into the dance hall with Jacques to find Marie and had seen Satine dancing. She probed ad to whether Satine had been paid for any services.

No, she hadn't.

Why did she betray her mother?

She wanted to act.

Had Harold told her that dancing in his club would help her become an actress?

Possibly…

There had been other questions. Finally, Celestine had had enough and crawled into the bed. Satine stayed up, guilt, anger and unhappiness flooded her chest.

That morning, after dressing, Celestine had marched themselves over to Harold's office.

"Harold!" Celestine's sharp voice caused Satine to come back to an attentive state, "She's _my_ daughter; _not yours_. We're leaving. You will not have the chance to turn my Satine into a prostitute. Do I make myself clear?"

Celestine seemed to grow a foot taller during the cloudy pause. Harold's eyes flashed with panic. Satine felt hurt.

"Mama," Satine said quietly, "I'm staying."

Celestine shrank to her normal height. "I beg your pardon?"

"I'm staying," Satine repeated, "Don't you understand? This is our _home_? If I work hard enough and stay here someday a producer will walk in here and find me and I can become a great actress."

Celestine appeared to have been run through with a sword. "No, no, my darling, you can be as great an actress without the help of this place. You have to be strong and work hard, but you can achieve anything without this place."

Satine shook her head. "This place is right for me, Mother. I am twenty-five. No longer the helpless, small girl who listened to everything everyone said. I can make my own choices here."

"No…darling…you can't. You have no control here. _He_ controls absolutely everything," Celestine said, pointing to Harold.

"Celestine," Harold said softly, "You have to let the girl decide."

Celestine looked at her shoes. She was weeping. Satine could see the shining line of salt water hanging on the rim of the blue eyes. Satine felt annoyed at this. Why did her mother's tears always fill her with guilt that she didn't need or want? Such a thing shouldn't do that. She should feel nothing but contentment now that she had finally made her own decision.

Celestine lifted her head, "Very well."

She moved towards Satine to embracer her. Satine knew her mother would go pack her things and leave for Jacques' as soon as she parted from the connection. Satine would stay. And for the first time, she would be apart from her mother daily. She knew she should return the loving gesture. But something in Celestine's teary, puffy eyes made Satine feel repulsed.

She pulled away.

Celestine looked at her in something like shock. But she didn't seem surprised either. She nodded and quitted the room.

With her new freedom, Satine danced, flirted and met with friends of Harold.

"Satine, my darling sparrow," Harold said one night, leading her to a table where four very strange looking men sat, "These men have come to me with a proposition."

The nightlife of the Moulin Rouge swirled about them as Satine and Harold took a seat.

"My, my, my!" exclaimed a member of the group. He seemed to be a cross between a man and a woman. His hair was long and dyed a dark blue. His face was made up and he wore an excessive amount of jewelry and frills. Satine suppressed her laughter, "This woman is gorgeous!"

"This is Satine, our sparkling diamond," Harold said, "Darling, this is Monsieur Audrey. He is a writer. Among him are his artistic friends."

"Mademoiselle," said another man, stretching out his short arm. He appeared to be a dwarf with a lisp, "My name is Henri Raymond Toulouse Lautrec Montfa. But please…swimply call me Toulouse."

"It's lovely to meet you, Toulouse," Satine said, putting on an airy voice. Satine turned her attention to the man sitting, (or sleeping rather) next to Toulouse, "And who is this?"

"Ah, yesth," said Toulouse, "This isth Abel Narciso. He isth from Argentina. Therefore we swimply call him the Argentinean. He suffers from narcowepsy. He frequently fwalls asleep mid-stride. You'll have to forgive him."

"Oh," Satine said, swiftly.

"Ah…Monsieur Narciso is a tango dancer, my pet," Harold explained, "He shall dance here."

"I'm Satie," said a bald, yet young man, with eccentric eyeglasses and clothing "I am an aspiring musician."

"Would you like a drink, young, fine lady?" another member of the party asked. This man sported a long, tangled, gray beard, droopy eyelids and a wayward top hat.

"Er, thies is the Dwoctor," Toulouse explained.

"Oh," Satine said, "You're a doctor?"

"I am dammed terrified of doctors," the elder man said, drunkenly.

"No, my dwear. We call him the Dwoctor. He is a master of lighting and other, shall we say, special effectsth," Toulouse said.

"Oh, I see," Satine said, "So what is this proposition you have for Harold?"

The five men all took a deep sip from their absinthe glasses before falling into an overlapping, drunken conversation.

"Bloody hell," Harold muttered, "Gentlemen…gentlemen…_please_."

The group quieted. Harold continued, "Mademoiselle Satine, Audrey has come here to Monmatre to take part in a rising movement, called the Bohemian Revolution. He intends to write a show. With the help of Toulouse, Satie, the Argentinean and the, er, Doctor, and my fantastic venue, we intend to create the first Bohemian Revolutionary show. We intend to turn the Moulin Rouge into a theatre. And you, my delicious strawberry, shall be the star of this show."

Satine looked back at Harold to confirm that she heard him right.

"Really?" was all she could get out.

"Indeed, my dear," Audrey said.

"How long will this…project take?" she asked.

"Uh…three to four…years," Harold said hesitantly.

"You're sure this can take place, Harold," she asked.

"The Argentinean declares we need stronger dancers, more provocative structure…I have written to an old friend of mine; a very talented Lady of the Evening, if you will. I have asked her to join us here. She has replied with enthusiasm and is bringing three of her colleagues. They shall be my Diamond Dogs. But you, darling sparrow, shall be the Moulin Rouge's very own Sparkling Diamond," Harold said.

"The Sparkling Diamond?" Satine asked.

"Indeed, darling!" Toulouse said, "While Audwry, Satie, the Argentin'an and the Doctor work on creating the first Revwowootionary Show, Zidwer will work on building your soon-to-be infamous repwrutation, while I do the simwar with the Moulin Rouge's!"

"The Moulin Rouge's reputation?"

"You swee, Mademoiselle Satine, I am a painter. I shall paint what I see here and all of Paris will desire to come see its illwoustreous content!" Toulouse exclaimed.

Harold smirked and held up his glass, "To the Moulin Rouge?"

"To the Moulin Rouge!" the group exclaimed and clinked their glasses over the head of the unconscious Argentinean.

The very next week Harold began to morph the nightclub into a classier attraction.

He was now in the process of giving the dancers certain identities and instructed the hired seamstresses to create costumes to mate these identities.

"You, my dear," Harold told one dancer, "Will be Garden Girl. And you….we'll call you Tattoo in light of those provocative new markings on your…er…body." He chuckled.

"Well, well, well," came a voice from the entrance, "If it isn't Monsieur Harold Zidler; leader of the Parisian Underworld."

A tall, malicious looking woman stood in the large doorway. Behind her stood three other women. One was particularly large and the other two were tanned, twin beauties.

"Ha ha!" Harold exclaimed upon recognizing the women, "It's Nini Legs in the Air!"

She cackled as they greeted one another. She was over-dressed. Satine and Marie observed from their chairs on the side.

"Oh, you sultry minx, you have arrived at last!" Harold bellowed, "And whom have you brought with you?"

Nini motioned for the large woman to step forward, "This is Madame Fromage."

Madam Fromage presented Harold with her hand for him to kiss it. She wore a very frill, mauve gown and her frizzy hair was bleached and contrasted with her dark eye makeup. Yet, she had a kind face.

"A pleasure to meet you, sir," Madame Fromage said.

"And these two are twin sisters," Nini said, waving her gloved hand at the two others, "Arabia and China Doll."

The both received kisses from Harold as well. "I am delighted to have you here! You shall be my infamous Diamond Dogs. Now, let me introduce you to our star, our Sparkling Diamond, Mademoiselle Satine."

Confusion broke over Nini's face as Harold brought Satine over to the group.

"It is a pleasure to have you join us," Satine said saucily. She could seem to rip the tone from her voice at any time. She stuck out her hand to greet Nini.

Nini, however, rudely ignored it. "Excuse me, Harold, this…_girl_ is your star?" she asked sharply.

"Why…yes," Harold said, quite lost.

Nini walked into a corner, waving her muff about, clearly wanting Harold to follow. He did.

Satine was left standing with Madam Fromage, Arabia and China Doll. The twins giggled and Madame Fromage greeted Satine.

"Are you new in the Evening business, dearie?" the woman asked.

"Oh. I don't work, er…_directly_ with the male clients. I am simply part of the show. I am an actress," Satine explained.

Madame Fromage laughed, "You will work _directly_ soon enough."

"No, you don't understand. I am Harold Zidler's niece. He won't sell me," Satine clarified.

The woman laughed again, "From what Nini tells me of Zidler, he would sell his grandmother if a client would take her."

Before Satine could say anything, Nini erupted with shrieks.

"You _liar_!" she said, and began towards the entrance. By this time, all attention was on Nini and Harold.

"Oh, my dear, dear, saucy pet," Harold said after her, "I am incredibly sorry for this unfortunate understanding! I never meant to make you believe such a thing!"

"Oh please, Harold. You intimated that _I_ would be the star here in your letter. Now I see that it was only a plot to make me leave Venice for your rat hole in Paris!" Nini said. Her heels seemed to clip the floor.

"No! Never!" Harold said. Marie snorted a laugh.

"You are unbelievable, Zidler," Nini said, turning to face him, "How could you chose your talent less chit of a niece to be your star over me? She has never hand the experience of selling herself as I have!"

"But she will soon enough, Nini!" Harold said.

"I will?" Satine asked. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest. Her uncle gave her a look that plainly stated he would speak with her later on the subject.

"Nini! Didn't I mention that you will be the, er…Captainess of the Diamond Dogs? Wanted by every male who enters this miraculous stage?" Harold asked desperately. His blue eyes were wide with panic.

"What?" Nini asked. Interest flashed in her dark eyes.

"The Captainess of the Diamond Dogs!" Harold repeated, "You shall be what attracts the men here. You are our bait! I will even have Toulouse pain you! You will be widely advertised in every absinthe bar in Paris!"

Toulouse raised his drunken head at the mention of his name. "Yesth Zidwer?"

All five bohemians had become a permanent landmark at the Moulin Rouge; always drinking and claiming that they were meditating on the show. Nothing seemed to get done, however.

"Advertised widely, you say?" Nini asked.

"Wider than the Atlantic, sultry doe!" Harold said.

"Zidler, I better be offered _quite_ a lot," she said threateningly, poking his chest.

"You will!" Harold said.

"I have your word?" Nini asked coldly.

"My most dependable word, love," he said.

"Very well."

"Ha ha! Welcome to the Moulin Rouge!" Harold performed a short dance on the spot.

Before Nini quitted the dance hall, she leaned her head to Satine's ear.

"Do not get in my way, chit," Nini said so low, Satine could barely hear her.

"I won't do it!" Satine said, "I will perform in these things you call shows, but I will _not_ lower myself into prostitution!"

"But cherub!" Harold protested urgently, "We need the money. A financier can only give so much. We need to build a reputation. You will become famous throughout Europe this way!"

"As a prostitute? No! I am an _actress_. What you ask of me is everything my mother did not want to happen. It made her miserable, Harold. I saw it," Satine said.

"Your mother didn't see the potential this place has, Satine. You do. You and I envision great things for the Moulin Rouge. We can see wealthy men and not just the scum of Monmatre sitting at our tables. You will be an actress. You working for me is simply a way of getting there. If you don't, I can't keep you here or help you. I will make Nini the star," Harold said.

Competitive flames burst in Satine's chest. "Nini?"

"Yes, I am afraid so. Listen, people have done worse to get to where they want to be. And really, prostitution requires acting. You must make these men believe you are theirs, when in reality, they and their money is yours. Men will send you luxuries. They will praise you, worship you. They are what will make you a star, darling. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

"I will not work as a prostitute forever; that you must promise me, Harold. You _must_ promise me that I will be a great actress. Make sure I make my mother proud," Satine said. She discovered she was on her knees, her slender hands enslaved by Harold's strong ones.

"You have my most dependable word," he said, smiling.


End file.
